


The Elder Statesmen

by morganya



Category: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-28
Updated: 2004-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganya/pseuds/morganya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They know each other very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elder Statesmen

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a response to [](http://community.livejournal.com/fab5challenge/profile)[**fab5challenge**](http://community.livejournal.com/fab5challenge/)'s Challenge No. 1, which can be found [here.](http://www.livejournal.com/community/fab5challenge/276.html)

"I'm changing my middle name to Squalor," Carson said. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"I thought you had work to do," Ted said. The dishes in the sink were caked with God knew what; Ted blasted them with hot water yet again. There was no dishwasher, of course. Thom had his work cut out for him.

Carson said, "Can't deal with all the bellbottoms and muscle shirts. It's the gayest disco ever, and it's all in Daniel's closet."

"You might as well help me, then," Ted said. "Try not to stick anything in your mouth, all right? Don't give into your oral fixation."

"First time a guy's ever said _that_ to me." Carson hopped up on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs, almost kicking Kevin the camera guy in the shin. "Oh, look. Formica with a touch of mold. What am I doing?"

Ted just kept trying to ignore the red blinking light of the camera. They weren't supposed to call attention to the fact they were being filmed. "Drying. Heads up." He tossed a dish towel to Carson. "Watch your..."

"This has been sterilized, right?"

"Only the best for you, Carson." Ted scrubbed at something that might have been a cup, once. "Ready?"

"Mmm."

Carson dried the cup with more concentration than Ted had thought he was capable of, face serious and peaceful. Ted stood up to his elbows in soapy, dirty water, and it occurred to him that he maybe shouldn't be staring.

"These are little old lady cups," Carson said, putting the dish down. "Did Daniel go and rob the retirement home? Little odd."

"See, what I find odd," Ted said, taking his hands out of the sink and shaking them dry, "is that he has no wine to speak of, but he has a lifetime supply of corks. In the refrigerator." He opened the refrigerator door, gesturing like Vanna White.

"Keeps them cold," Carson said. "You want to keep your cork from getting overheated."

"Does everything you say have to sound sexual?"

"I can't help it if you have a dirty mind."

Ted peered into the refrigerator. The corks were all stained to varying degrees, as though they'd been dipped in blood. Ted pinched a cork between his thumb and index finger and studied it.

"We found the porn!" Jai shouted jubilantly from the other room. "Carson! Come here! Porn!"

"He knows you too well," Ted said.

"Eh." Carson got off the counter. "Might as well mosey on in there. Anything on my pants?"

Carson was wearing chartreuse trousers with red stripes on them. Ted said, "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"On second thought, don't bother." Carson wandered out of the kitchen. Ted put the cork on top of the refrigerator and turned back to the sink.

Two minutes later, Carson said, "Ted?"

"Yep?"

"This isn't classy, is it?" Carson came back into the kitchen. He flapped the magazine, which seemed to have a name like _Busty_ or _Lusty_ or _Musty_. "Now, is that an appropriate use for candle wax?"

The pages were in full view of the camera, all silicone-fattened and flesh-toned. "Carson -" Ted warned. Carson just kept flipping through the pages.

"Ew, look at the backne on this guy. It's like a minefield."

"_Carson,_" Ted said, laughing and flinching.

Carson blinked at him. "What?" The magazine hung from his hands, as if he had forgotten about it. "What'd I say?"

*****

There was always a party when they finished shooting, always at one club or another. The parties went on until no one was left standing.

Ted was generally the first one to fall; he chalked it up to being a function of age. He went to the parties, drank until he was one hair away from insensible, laughed at other people trying to dance and then took a cab home. Alone.

Tonight, though (or was it 'this morning?' The sun wasn't up yet, it had to still be night), the combination of vodka, vermouth and loud German techno have only made Ted ravenous. He said his goodbyes and made his way to the door. Carson was smoking a cigarette outside the door.

"You heading home?"

"Going to eat," Ted said. He added, with a magnanimous wave of his hand, "Come with me."

Carson never had a problem switching gears. He crushed the cigarette out and said, "Where?"

"Well, damned if I know."

Ted wasn't sure what they'd actually call this meal. It was too early to be breakfast, too late for dinner, and they'd ordered too much food for it to qualify as a midnight snack and it was probably a bad sign if Ted was babbling mentally to himself about it. He sat across from Carson in the red vinyl booth and just waited for his pancakes to arrive.

"This is cute," Carson said. "I expect Wally and the Beav to drop in and join us any minute."

"Bygone era," Ted said. The seats were puffy, stuffed with foam. To his right, there was an assortment of strawberry, blueberry and maple syrup in squat containers, with dried trails of syrup trickling down their sides and sticking to the table. Ted rubbed at them with a napkin without success.

"Leave it," Carson said. "If the food doesn't get here, we can always take turns eating that."

"Disgusting, yet practical."

Carson shrugged and pushed his hair out of his face. "I like to have my priorities in order."

Two years ago, back when it was still supposed to be just a lark, they were at the horrendously awkward bonding meeting with Sam and James and Charlie, and Carson had spent the entire weekend sweeping in and out of the room and cracking jokes. Carson wasn't the easiest person in the world to get to know. Ted had spent a fair amount of time wondering if the real Carson Kressley would please stand up.

A month later, the Daves had already put Sam and James and Charlie on the chopping block. The first thing Carson had ever said to him that could be construed as serious was, "So, I'm guessing one of us is next."

It was amazing how shared job insecurity worked as a bonding agent better than any weekend getaway.

"We're elder statesmen here," Carson said when it looked like both of them were staying. "Or stateswomen, more likely. Whatever."

"Don't use the word 'elder,' okay, Carson?" Ted said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're the elder statesman, and I'm the fresh-faced, innocent young intern."

Carson never just let things lie.

Ted looked across the restaurant table at Carson, who was rambling away about the tragic prospects he'd seen at the club. "I mean, can you believe it? One guy looked exactly like Mr. Ed on steroids. I was about to offer him some barley and give him a good curry." His hair had already fallen back in his face; he was picking up sugar packets and flicking them back and forth like a tiny granulated fan. Ted felt deeply, absurdly fond of him.

The waitress brought the plates over, asked shyly for an autograph before heading back to the kitchen. Ted looked at his food. The pancakes were studded with blueberries, thick and sweet with juice. There were tiny brown sausages, still hissing with heat, nestled in a rather bedraggled leaf of lettuce, which was the only mildly healthy thing on the place. Ted laughed.

"Carson, look. Carson."

Carson looked up from his omelet. "What?"

Ted slid the sausages off the leaf and held it out. He felt grease instantly slick his fingertips. "I think this was sort of a pathetic effort, don't you?"

"Ohhh," Carson said. "Ew. Lettuce rest in peace."

Ted rolled the lettuce into a tight, pale green cylinder and put it down. "You going back to the club after this?"

"Why?"

"Don't know. Figured you still had some party left in you."

"If I go back after this, I'm going to be a little blond damp rag," Carson said. "I'm trying to learn to pace myself."

"Uh-huh."

"First time for everything, right?"

"Uh. Huh."

"Oh, hush."

The sun was just about to rise when they got back to Carson's apartment building. It hurt when Ted raised his eyes to look at the sky but he was otherwise together.

He walked Carson to the apartment door. Carson turned around from putting the key in the lock, smiled and said, "Well, Miss Allen, do I get a kiss goodnight?"

"Yeah," Ted said. "Yeah, you do."

He pulled Carson's head down to meet his, tasted spice and smoke. Carson started a little, and Ted allowed himself a small thrill of victory- _Hah, didn't expect this, did you?_ \- before Carson took hold of his shirt and tugged him closer. Ted braced his hand against the doorway and Carson's hand had moved up to his neck, unbuttoning all his buttons, and Ted started wondering about the security cameras, every building had cameras in them nowadays, some security guard was probably staring at them right now, it would be used as evidence against them and they'd both go to jail for public lewdness -

He tore his mouth away and almost-squawked, "Carson - Carson, your neighbors - don't know how much of a liberal -"

"Don't care." Carson's hand was by his navel. His hair was in Ted's face.

"I really need to...to brush my teeth or something, there's totally..."

"Don't care."

Jesus Lord, Carson's mouth was hot.

"We're gonna..."

Carson ran a finger under his jaw. "Ted?"

"Gah."

Carson kicked the apartment door open with his heel. "You can be quiet now."

"Okay."

Lying on Carson's bed, red cotton blanket fiery against his skin, Ted traced the tan lines on Carson's hip with one finger. There was fine brown hair on Carson's legs.

"Ever considered letting your hair grow out?" Ted said.

"No."

"And may I ask why?"

Carson expertly pushed him back on the bed, slid down his body with uncharacteristic grace. He lifted one hand and stroked Ted's cheek, soft lips around Ted's cock, tongue flicking in slow, rhythmic circles. His hair, damp with sweat, the brown hair gone almost black, brushed against the inside of Ted's thighs. Ted raised his hips, blanket giving under his fingers, clenching his teeth to keep from moaning. It was if Carson didn't need to breathe, as if he had no teeth at all, his mouth infinitely deep, saliva-slick, soft as velvet. Ted forced himself to open his eyes.

Carson took his mouth away; Ted sucked his breath in, grabbing for Carson's shoulder. "Please, _please_..."

Carson smiled. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that blonds have more fun?" He ran his tongue over his upper lip and went down on Ted again.

Carson was an ungainly sleeper; somehow one of his hands had migrated under Ted's head, other hand draped over Ted's abdomen, legs locked around him. Ted squirmed; there was very little chance of getting to sleep this way.

Carson's eyes fluttered open. He looked myopic and mildly concerned. He said, voice low and thick, "You're staying, right?"

Ted gently moved Carson's leg, rolled over to face him. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."


End file.
